


Lost Kitten

by MorbidOptimist



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Adoption, F/F, Found Family, Gen, Pseudo-Incest, runaway rose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-11 21:55:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7071985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorbidOptimist/pseuds/MorbidOptimist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roxy Lalonde is used to dealing with strays; it's just, they're usually kittens not kids, and she's never wanted one to follow her home this badly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by the song of the same title by metric,  
> www.youtube.com/watch?v=i8NUFftXd3U

 

Roxy Lalonde was bored, which was in and of itself not an unusual occurrence, and her desire to seek out something to entertain herself with had prompted her to brave the dismal weather for a lovely two in the morning stroll on a Tuesday night through an eerily quiet redlight district.

The street she was walking was lit by neon signs rather than streetlamps; their colors bounced off the rain and covered their surroundings in a subdued glows, making the night feel colder than it already was.

It was also windy, and Roxy hugged her jacket closed with one hand while the other steadied her umbrella against the onslaught of water drops threatening to soak her to the bone.

Her heels clicked against the sidewalk, and with each step caused tiny splashes that sent tinier droplets up the back of her legs, causing her to shiver.   

She sighed as she past rows of establishments that were either closed from the weather or else were so disappointingly shoddy that after stepping into them and taking one look at the one or two glassy eyed women and the blackout drunkards watching them, she turned right back around and walked out again.

With her tongue pressed against her cheek, Roxy instead turned her attention to the street; she knew it was unlikely that she would find anyone substantial working in the evening’s deplorable weather conditions, but as her anxiousness grew, the more determined she became.

She was just about to reconsider her stance on the last skeevy joint she had checked out when the faint light of a cigarette across the street piqued her interest.

She smiled to herself, relieved, and started making her way towards the owner of the tiny flame.

As she walked closer, the person sitting under the eve of one of the buildings began to take form; a neon bathed hoodie and stockings with the knees blown out were quick to grab her eye.

When she reached the awning they were sitting under however, it became apparent that Roxy had mistakenly presumed their profession; there was violin case tucked safely beside the girl, who definitely did not look old enough to be on her own at night, let alone old enough to turn tricks or nurse the cigarette she was holding.

The girl was eyeing her warily, and Roxy could practically see the girl’s exhaustion dripping off her her tiny frame.

Roxy’s stomach clenched and she ran her tongue along her teeth while she tried to sort out the situation she had stumbled into.

“Kind of late to be out and about kiddo;” came tumbling out of Roxy’s mouth before she could stop the words from forming; “a bit of bad street to hole up in too.”

The girl closed her eyes and took a drag of the cigarette she definitely did not look old enough to be wielding; “On a night this early in the week, with this much rain, no one really comes by this way,” she replied autonomously.

“Still,” Roxy replied as she looked the street over in either direction; “Not exactly the place for a kid to be. Do you have anywhere you could go? Friends? Family? Safehouse or something?”

The girl responded by taking another drag; as the smoke poured from the girl’s lips into the night air, Roxy’s mind was made up.

The girl jumped when Roxy knelt down to sit to sit beside her.

The girl didn’t protest, but gathered herself closer, and Roxy shook out her umbrella before holding it between them both.

They sat silently for a few minutes, as the girl looked her over, and then broke the silence.

“What are you doing?”

“I can’t very well leave a little girl alone, in the rain, at night, on a street of strip clubs; and as convincing you to hole up somewhere else would still leave you a girl alone at night in the rain, I am going to sit here next to you, at least until morning, if only to save myself from from getting worried sick and to save you, theoretically, from bad shit that could happen otherwise.”

The girl remained silent and Roxy tried to focus her attention on the individual drops of water hitting the sidewalk in front of her, and hoped she appeared non-threatening.

“You’re ruining your dress;” the girl observed.

“It’ll wash out. Or it won’t;” Roxy shrugged, “I’ve got better ones.”

“So you’re a bored old rich woman with morals? How quaint.”

Roxy snorted deprecatingly and shook her head; “I’m afraid that I am _disgustingly_ well off and anything related to the word ‘morals’ has hardly ever been attributed to me, but bored yes, most definitely on that one. I’m not quite old yet though. Gimmie a few more years and I’ll get there.”

As several minutes passed between them in silence, Roxy wondered how long the girl had been on the streets and what she might have been running from. She tried to push the thoughts down, and quell the flickers of anxiety that the thoughts brought with them.

“Are you a serial killer or something?”

“Of course;” Roxy replied while waving her free hand, her words thick with sarcasm, “I’m just waiting to lull you into a false sense of security. Can’t get my jimmies off unless I’m rustling girls into dumpsters in the middle of the night. There goes Lalonde, they say, back up to no good; when will she learn, the people ask? Why never, I’ll reply. RoLal ain’t never giving up her wiley ways. I’ll be taking my nefarious hobbies with me to the grave; catch me if you can coppers, Momma’s gonna get lit as she goes down with style.”

“You talk like a teenager but you look like you’re thirty.”

“And you smoke like you’re legal but you look like you’re ten.”

“I’m fifteen.”

“Ten,” Roxy repeated, with little room for argument.

“Thirteen,” the girl amended quietly.

Roxy let the statement hang in the air for a bit before pushing for more information.

“How long you been smoking?”

“If you’re going to give me a lecture you can shove it Lady.”

Roxy smiled sadly and shook her head.

“Honey, you’re out here on the street and it’s raining cats and dogs, and you wouldn’t be doing that if you didn’t have a damn compelling reason to, so if you need a smoke right now I’m not going to stop you; well, at least not this time anyway. Besides,” Roxy continued sadly as she pulled out a carton from her pocket, “I’d be a bit of a hypocrite,” she finished while she pulled out one for herself and tucked the carton away again.

She held out the end of her cigarette to the girl’s, and let it flare up before bringing it to her lips. She took a hefty drag and watched the smoke unfurl into the neon colored rain.

“A girl I used to live with got me started,” the girl offered quietly, more to herself than to Roxy, “been a couple months now.”

“Obligatory shit’s bad for you statement;” Roxy replied before tilting her head, “She teach you any of the smoke tricks?”

The girl looked at her and Roxy smirked and wiggled her eyebrows before puffing out a series of smoke rings, each tinier than the last, and then blew a final dart that intersected them all.  

“It’s a bit harder in the rain and I’m not the best at it but, there’s a few things I still remember.”

“How long have you been at it?”

Roxy exhaled deeply and took another drag; “A few years now. Addiction is a terrible thing kid.”

The girl turned her gaze back to the pavement.

“You’re really going to sit here all night aren’t you?”

“‘Fraid so kiddo.”

The girl went quiet again, and the silence hung between them

Several minutes passed.

The rain hitting the sidewalk lulled Roxy into a dreamlike state of consciousness, and she let her mind wander, occasionally taking an idle drag of her cigarette while she thought about how soaked she was getting.

The neon signs flickered gently, and every so often the wind would shift, sending a wave of rain to shower across them; sometimes a large drop would find its way day down the back of Roxy’s neck, causing her to twitch, and she would marvel at how little the girl beside her didn’t seem bothered by the storm.

The girl beside her let her cigarette burn out, and the stub soon joined the ashes by her boots.

Minutes stretched into hours, that were only made tangible by the occasional glance that Roxy spared her phone.

Every once in awhile, a car passed by, and as the sky began to brighten the number began increasing.

It the cold, dim light of morning, Roxy looked the girl over again and was able to make out her out more clearly; bobbed hair, likely some shade of blonde under the grime, a worn looking headband, full lips pulled pressed into a small frown. Her expression was so wary that she was surprised it hadn’t simply fallen off the girl’s face on its own accord. Roxy’s heart skipped erratically and tried to force itself into her throat.

She turned her attention back to the road and kept her eyes focused on the flickering neon signs flickering out one by one as the morning crept on.

When the sun climbed into the sky behind the curtain of rainclouds, Roxy felt a mixture of relief and pride in her gut, pangs of hunger in her belly, and a stiff ache in her body from how she had been sitting on ground for so long.

She took a few minutes to stretch out her kinks and turned to the girl beside her.

“Is there anyway I can convince you to let me buy you breakfast? Or am I going to stand up, turn round, and find that you’ve gone and scampered off?”

The girl slowly got to her feet, and stretched for a moment herself, and picked up her violin case.

“I don’t require your charity, but I would not stop you from giving it either,” she replied evenly; she scowled, “I do not _scamper_ anywhere.”

“Cool. So you want donuts, pancakes, or lunch stuff?”

“Beggars cannot be choosers. I’ll have whatever you may choose to give me.”

“We’ll see when we get there then,” Roxy replied as she wiped some of the excess water from her dress, “Come on, better get somewhere where there’s real food. Are you okay to walk or would you prefer a cab?”

“Are you suggesting that I board a vessel of transport with a stranger?”

“Smart girl,” Roxy agreed, “Walking it is then. God did I choose a bad night to wear heels.”

Walking helped ease the stiffness from her joints, but Roxy was still left with the unpleasant sensation of being stuffed in wet clothes.

The street came to an end, forcing them to round the corner and tread through a street dingier than the one they had spent the night in. The street began to narrow, leading to an alley, and Roxy’s hand instinctively reached out for the girl’s.

The girl didn’t protest, but once they passed through the alley and into a street blooming with morning traffic, the girl withdrew her hand and slackened her pace.

They weaved through pedestrians on their way to work until a food cart caught Roxy’s eye.

“So how do you feel about hotdogs for breakfast?”

“I’ve had worse.”

Roxy’s stomach rumbled in anticipation and the pair sequestered their place in line.

“What kind do want? Regular? Loaded? Naked? There’s burgers and pretzels if you’d rather have those.”

“A burger please.”

“You want fries too?”

The girl shrugged and pulled her hoodie tighter.

Roxy bit her tongue and turned to the vendor to order; when she procured the items, she walked over to a bench and sat down. She nodded at the seat beside her, and smiled when the girl sat down.

With some finagling around the umbrella, Roxy held separated the girls bag from her own and passed it over, along with the soda she bought for her with it.  

The girl dug in, starting with the fries, and Roxy smiled before helping herself to her own meal.

The hotdog helped thaw out her insides, but it also made Roxy realize just how cold the rest of her was. She spent a few seconds watching the girl work her way through the burger as if it was the first good thing she’d eaten in weeks and her heart lurched again; she decided that the four dollars she spent on the extra food in her bag had been more than worth it.

When she finished her hotdog, and licked her fingers and offered her own bag for the girl to take.

“Don’t think I can eat the rest, and it would be a shame to waste it so...”

As Roxy predicted, the girl eyed it warily before taking it with a nod. She shoved the rest of her  bag inside it and rolled the top shut and set to work on the soda.

After a few sips she paused her inhalation of the liquid and tapped the straw against her lips; she watched Roxy in a manner that rattlesnake might watch an approaching coyote and Roxy was taken aback by the sheer depth of her violet eyes.

“I suppose this is the part where I’m supposed to thank you for your generosity.”

“Kid, I sat in a puddle for like six hours; I wanted a damn hotdog and it only made sense to feed you too,” Roxy replied; and winced she feared her tone had been too harsh.

She opened her mouth to attach a witty one liner to lessen the sting but was rendered silenced when the girl mumbled something and shook her head.

Roxy cursed herself, feeling like an ass, and was surprised when the girl offered her a small smile.

“Thank you.”

Roxy’s throat nearly welled itself shut, so she nodded in reply.

She swallowed, and when she regained the ability to speak, Roxy cleared her throat.

The girl watched her while slurping down more of her soda.

“I know we’re strangers, but I really don’t want you leave you on your own, so at least at night, would it be okay if I stayed with you?”

“If you really want to spend your evenings sitting in gutters and alleyways it your business Lady, you don’t need to use me as an excuse to do so.”

“Honey, if I thought for a second you’d actually use it, I’d buy you a hotel and never think twice about it.”

“Do you sweet talk all your strays like this or am I just the weekly special?” the girl asked with amusement in her voice.

“Something tells me you’re a once in a lifetime kind of girl;” Roxy chuckled, “But seriously, if I bought you a phone, a prepaid thing, and put my number in it, would you call me? We could wait out the night in one of the all-nighter cafes, no rain, no alleyways. I’ll probably buy enough snacks to share.”

“You’re really adamant about this; Suppose if I refuse you.”

“Then you refuse; not much I can do in that case,” Roxy replied, shaking her head.

“And you would really just let me vanish into dangers untold? After putting this much investment towards my safety?”

“I can’t do anything if you don’t want me too kiddo.”

The girl thought to herself while slurping on her straw, and Roxy braced herself.

“Very well. If you buy me a phone, I’ll meet you at a coffee shop.”

 A sigh of relief exhaled itself from Roxy’s lungs and she felt some of the tension leave her shoulders.

“Then if you’re ready let’s go find you a phone.”


	2. Chapter 2

 

The phone was a bit heavier than what she had been expecting, likely due to its flip-lid nature. The assistant behind the counter had assured the lady and herself that the package it came with was good for several months of prepaid calls and texts.

She turned it over in her hands a few times and opened it; the little start up animation on the tiny screen blinked into life and faded to the menu.

The assistant had added the woman's number to the contact list, and at her request, set her number to quickdial, providing she tapped the number 6 button three times.

She couldn’t decide what was more amusing to her, the fact she had to dial the devil’s number to call the woman or that the assistant had believed the woman to be her mother and had automatically set her number to MOM in the phone in the first place.

Still, it had made the transaction easier. No questions. No fuss.

The gold credit card the woman had flashed certainly hadn’t worsened things either.

And after spending the rest of the day playing her violin anywhere that wouldn’t get her instrument soaked, the thought of sitting someplace warm was extremely tempting.

She sighed and clicked the button three times.

The phone rang, but the call went unanswered.

She scowled and went to close the phone; of course the woman wouldn't have answered, what had she been expecting? The woman probably went home, congratulating herself for her good deed of the day, downed some fruity cocktail and passed out on the couch in some suburban mom fashion. The lady probably wouldn’t even remember her in another day or two, when she finished milking the story for all it was worth with her snobby friends and coworkers.

She closed the phone.  

A second later, the phone buzzed and she flipped it open to find a text.

got ur call   
:3   
gimmie 20 min 2 get there 

Why do you type like a seventeen year old that just discovered instant messaging? 

A few seconds later her phone buzzed again.

Because I’m secretly a 17yo in disguise lmao   
shit kiddo I’ve been texting since b4 u were born   
ju57 83 914d 1m n07 t41k1n9 11k3 th15!!! 

If you ever type that way again I am going to call the police on you for assault with the very phone you bought me. 

lol  
hey, which place am i meeting u at? 

the one on the corner across from the park. 

i know the one   
ok!   
g2g cab’s here  
see u soon 

  
She slipped her phone back into her pocket and glanced around. It was raining lightly, and there was enough light to wash everything out in shades of muted color. There were a few table scattered about in what passed for the establishment’s outside dining area, a few of them sported tired looking umbrellas, and while she was certain their seats would be just as wet as the bare tables, she opted to sit under one of the umbrella-topped ones anyway.

Her violin case landed on the ground with a dull thud. Her arm ached from carrying it for several hours, and her shoulders ached worse from playing it several more; the donations had been less than her usual take, but she had expected as much; no one really liked to stop in the rain.

Well, aside from odd rich women gallivanting about in the dead of night, she supposed, recalling the woman from from the evening prior.

Her stomach rumbled and she ignored it angrily, upset that it would complain after the miniature feast she had consumed that morning.

She recalled the fries the woman had bought her; fresh and seasoned and warm, steam rising gently from them, carrying the wafting scent of heart attacks and what she was certain passed for the fine “American Dream.” She had downed them and the lady’s offerings before lunch.

She was certain the whole ordeal had been a dream, a dream that she was still somehow dreaming; surely she had to be caught somewhere deep in her own psyche, fast asleep in an alley or else lying in a ditch, her lungs breathing her last desperate breaths while her mind struggled to keep her focus off of her impending end?

Surely that made more sense than the reality she had found herself in.

People didn’t just decide to sit on sidewalks in the rain for hours on end out of misplaced senses of-

Of what, she wasn’t even sure. How could she even label it?

Madness certainly, she thought.

Civic duty perhaps?

Compassion?

She knew logically, that such people existed, those who did selfless actions for selfless reasons; but she had always considered them to be more like leprechauns, sure, one might hear stories about them from time to time, especially at certain times of year, but no one ever ran into one.

Not in real life, anyway.

And yet, the bench beneath her felt as real as the chill on her skin, the thin puddle on the table beneath her arms, the case at her feet, and the hunger clawing its way into her sides.

The rain hitting her back felt just as real as her skinned knee and the heavy weight of the phone in her pocket.

Here she was, she realized, sitting in the rain, waiting for a kindly stranger to pass away the night with.

She sneezed and pulled her hoodie closer. It was soaked, and could offer no further warmth, but the fabric felt reassuring under her nose.

She watched the parking lot entrance for any sign of the woman’s arrival; part of her wanted to wait inside, dry out, and check on her violin, but a larger part insisted that it would be better to wait. She didn’t want to go inside and get dry only to get kicked out and become soaked again.

She didn’t want to go in and have them look to closely and ask things she couldn’t answer.

She shivered.

She checked the time on the phone.

Twenty minutes, the lady had said.   

She glanced at the darkening sky, and waited.

A car pulled into the parking lot some minutes later; the sun was finished setting behind the clouds and the car’s headlights nearly blinded her from the change in illumination.

She adjusted her posture and steadied her breathing.

The car’s lights flicked out and a woman exited from the back seat.

She recognized the shape of the woman’s hair and figure, and her gait. When the woman walked closer to the entrance, she noticed her lips were still painted black.

The woman smiled when she noticed her, and she felt a small sense of relief, which she promptly told herself was attributed to the idea of obtaining more free food and getting out of the rain, and not at the woman herself.

“Hey there Kiddo,” the woman greeted as she strode up to her table, “We going in or or we sitting out here?”

“In,” she replied curtly, standing up.

The woman nodded and gestured for her to lead the way.

The door opened with the chime of a tiny bell and the smell coffee beans and pastries blanketed the air. The coffee shop was small, but designed well, and among its contents, sported a tired but friendly looking cashier, a couple of empty booths to choose from, and large windows from which one could watch the outside world and feel cozy doing so.

She chose a booth near the middle; she tended to get kicked out less when she avoided sitting in shadowed corners seats on the back.

She sat, placing her violin down beside her, and the woman sat in the seat across the table.

It was then that she noticed the bag the woman was carrying, which she had first taken to be the woman’s oversized purse out in the parking lot.

Instead of setting it on the floor or in the empty space next to her, the woman placed the bag on the table and slid it over to her.  

“Got you something,” she offered gently, “Figured it might come in handy with all this rain.”

She glanced at the bag and eyed the woman wearily.

“You can take a look at it if you want; I’m going to order something,” she stated, standing up, “You want anything?”

She remained motionless.

The woman looked at her for a few seconds more, then walked over to the counter.

She forced her hands not shake as she popped open the bag; she wanted to throw it. Toss it over the counter maybe and storm outside.

The storm outside however, is what made her swallow down her emotions and open the damn thing.

She pulled out a coat.

Purple, lots of pockets.

It looked good, nice even.

Lined with something soft and warm looking.

It looked a size or two too big but, it would definitely cover her, if she shrugged it on.

The woman came back, toting a coffee and a small paper bag in one hand, and another cup in the other.

“I got some muffins if you’d like any,” she offered as she sat down; she slid her the extra cup and then started fussing with the lid on her own.

“You got me a coat.”

The woman bit her lip, likely trying to decide if she’d made a bad decision.

“You don’t have to wear if you don’t want it but, it looked like it might be useful to you.”

She said the words carefully, as if she had measured each of them down to the very letter before speaking them; she wondered if the woman thought her so fragile as to break at the slightest provocation.  

“It probably will,” she replied politely, “I would say that there’s no reason to look a gift horse in the mouth, but I’ve often thought there would be several good reasons as to why that expression would be impractical in real life situations. Regardless, I give you my thanks once again.”

The woman brightened a bit, although her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes; she wondered whether the stranger even knew what she was doing or why.

“Any time,” she replied; she let the silence ring between them for a few minutes, and then the woman opened the bag of muffins.  

“So, I suppose since we are to be bosom companions for this night at least, it might be wise to ask for you name?”

“My name’s Roxy, Roxy Lalonde. Rolal for short,” the woman replied after she finished chewing

“Does anyone actually refer to you as such?”

“Only Di-Stri, but he does it ironically I’m sure.”

“Di-Stri? That sounds like a DJ’s name.”

“Nah, he’s just a guy with a bunch of robots who makes puppet pornos. His full name is Dirk Strider.”

She waited a moment, letting the puppet statement sink in; she watched the woman, Roxy, grin at her, and then smirked herself.

“Are they any good?”

“Only if you like puppet probisci.”

She shook her head and went back to sipping her coffee; Roxy tilted her head and nodded at her.

“What about you kiddo?”

“I can honestly say that I have never been involved with puppet probisci in any manner.”

Roxy snorted; an undignified but strangely reassuring sound, “No silly, I meant your name. What should I call you?”

“You can call me anything but late for dinner,” she replied, a coy smile graced her face and her eyebrows wiggled for added effect.

Roxy pursed her lips, but her amusement was clearly written across her face.

“Smartass.”

She offered the woman a wider grin.

“So Kiddo, how’d your day go?”

“It wasn’t a good day for tips if that’s what you’re asking,” she replied, “Not a lot of people like to stop in the rain.”

The woman frowned; “Sorry to hear that.”

She shrugged; “It’s no big deal. I’ve figured out how to get by day to day in pretty much any kind of weather. It was actually one of the more pleasant rainy days, since you bought me breakfast this morning. I got to spend some time in my favorite library since I didn’t have to spend the time scavenging.”

“Oh?” the woman, Roxy, replied curiously, “Are you fond of books?”

“I’m usually more fond of them than people, if you must know.”

Roxy smiled; “What kind of things do you like to read?”

She shrugged; she didn't really want to give the woman any more information about herself. She wasn't even entirely sure why she was going along with all of this to begin with. 

Perhaps it was the novelty of it, that was drawing her in, she supposed. 

The woman’s smile tilted a bit and she took another bite of her muffin; she refrained from answering, but after a moment she smiled again and nudged the muffin bag closer.

She sighed and pulled one out.

“What kind?”

“Chocolate chip, and some are plain.”

She nodded and peeled the wrapper away slowly, picked off the pieces that ripped and stuck to the bread, and turned the muffin around as if she was appraising it.

Part of her was insisting she eat it, along with its brethren, because the knowledge that she would never know for certain when her next meal was to be had been driven into a deep recess of her brain. Another part, a more calm and rational one, insisted that she had already eaten more than enough for one day, and that it would be far wiser to save them, horde them away for later for when they were half stale and she was half starved.  

She picked off some of the chocolate chips, one by one, and passed them through her lips while she was racked with indecision.

She could eat the one, she supposed, and save the others, she reasoned, provided the woman didn’t eat the mall or take them with her.

She ate slowly, taking time between each bite. Each swallow.

The muffin was warm and buttery, and the chocolate melted across her tongue.

The woman watched her in silence, but didn’t seem bothered by it; if anything she seemed content.

She paid her little mind and continued the slow devouring of her snack.

When she was finished, she leaned back and glanced out the window.

The world was dark, and rain pattered against the glass.

She watched individual drops slide down the window, and watched the cars decrease in number as the the time grew later.

The warm scent filled air of the shop began to settle around her and her thoughts grew tired and muffled.

Each time she blinked, her eyes took longer to open, until one moment, they refused to open at all and the sound of the rain coaxed her into sleep.

 

Dimly, she was brought back to the world.

 

Confusion coursed through her when she realized she couldn't tell where she was. 

She shot up, wide awake.

The woman sitting across the table looked up, tongue sticking out between her teeth with a look of concentration broken by surprise; she was caught frozen, surrounded by several empty cups of coffee and what looked to be tons of mathematical equations scribbled on napkins.

They were both still sitting in the coffee shop, and the coat that she had left stuffed in the bag had been draped over her as a makeshift blanket.

She pulled the coat off, and tried not appear as discombobulated as she felt; she was half surprised that the woman hadn't made off with her into the night.

"Welcome back sleepyhead."

She struggled to find something to say in response.   

“You… are good at math, I see.”

“I read a lot as a kid; anything I could get my hands on really,” Roxy offered idly, “Di-Stri and I found an old junk manual once and we figured out how to reverse engineer a biofueled mini engine; nearly got the shit beaten out of us for taking apart the toaster to build it though.”

“I take you and your friend were rather adept at mechanical engineering then.”  

“To be fair, he was more of the mechanical orientated prodigy and I was something of a general science and coding kid,” she replied, as if she were admitting to it, “Still, I ended up getting an internship and jump start at Skianet.”

“What do they do?”

“Everything science related; space, agricultural studies, you name it and there’s probably a team for it. And if there isn’t,” she continued, “they make one.”

“What do you do for them?”

“I’m the head of a couple different projects, and I assist several others; I usually end up tracking asteroids and meteors, performing ecto-bioengineering experiments, and gathering data about space outside the edges of the universe.”

“Sounds impressive.”

Roxy shrugged a bit; “Only when I say it like that. I do enjoy my work though, so that’s one plus.”

“And the others?”

“Well, my house for starters,” she replied with a smirk, “and my paycheck would definitely be another.”

“Yes, I do recall you mentioning that you were disgustingly well off.”

“Mmhmm,” the woman hummed in agreement.

She looked away from the woman and out the window; the world was beginning to brighten and the rain had taken a break for awhile.

“I guess it’s about time we went our separate ways;” she found herself desperately wishing for the sun to finish rising; there were too many emotions swirling around in her head and her gut, and she didn’t much care for the thought of dealing with any of them.

“Call me for tonight then?” the woman asked gently.

She shrugged; already mentally rehearsing her plan for the day.

She stood up, grabbed the jacket and her violin, and then woman stood up too; she flinched when Roxy gently touched her arm, not quite holding it enough to keep her from pulling away, but enough to silently ask her to wait another moment before leaving.

“Good luck out there kiddo,” Roxy offered gently; she shivered when she couldn’t feel anything but  emotion under the woman's words; “I’ll be here tonight if you want to find me. Stay safe.”

The woman smiled, and she couldn’t place the emotion on her face; sadness? Hope? She was really bad at this; she didn’t know how to read the woman and that scared her. Or maybe she was reading her perfectly well, she thought, and that would be scarier still.

She fidgeted in the woman’s grasp and Roxy let her go; she tried to leave the cafe in something that didn’t resemble a mad bolt to the exit, and paused as she opened the door.

Roxy watched her for a second, the serious look still in place, and then, she grinned and then she stuck out her tongue and winked at her, before turning back to the booth to clear the table.

A small feeling of something grew in her belly.

 

She left the shop and let the door swing shut with a fading tickle of the bell and tried to leave thoughts of the strange woman behind her.

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

Roxy checked the time on clock on the wall and scowled.

The kid was late.

Well, she had been kind of early to be fair, having arrived at the cafe nearly an hour and a half prior, but the sky was pitch black from the heavy rain and it was quickly approaching nine in the evening and the girl was nowhere in sight.

She sighed and nursed her cappuccino.  

She wondered if texting the girl would be too much; with they way the kid had bolted after their last encounter, she wasn’t so sure how well she was doing at, well, whatever it was she was doing.

Helping, she hoped.

The beverage was scalding and her umbrella had fell over in a way that allowed itself to shed an erratic cascade of water drops down one of her ankles.

She sighed.

Her nails began to clack against the table in rapid succession, tapping out a steady rhythm that steadily turned into Morse code without her prompting.  

She had half a mind to take a smoke break at one of the tables outside but then thought the better of it. She was pretty sure it wasn’t illegal to smoke in front of a minor but, providing the kid did show up, she really didn’t want to encourage the habit.

She checked her phone and ran her tongue along her teeth when it showed that she had yet to receive anything aside from work texts and news updates.

She thumbed over to a minigame, and preoccupied herself with aligning multicolored blocks.

Gradually, the game increased in speed and difficulty, and she soon lost herself to beating her personal high score.

“Whatcha playin?” asked a small curious voice.

“Tetris,” she replied without thinking; she paused, recognizing the voice and looked up.

The girl was sitting across from her, wearing the purple raincoat she had bought for her, and was grinning mischievously.

“I ah, didn’t see you there sorry. Have you been here long?”

The girl shrugged and Roxy could tell she was swinging her feet under the table.

Roxy cleared her throat and stuffed her phone back into her purse; she was wearing another dress today, though it was one far less eye-catching than the one she had been wearing when she first met the girl.

“Can I get you anything?”

“...A pony.”

“What color?”

The girl quirked an eyebrow and Roxy smirked.

“How about something to eat while you think it over, hmm?”

“If you insist.”

“How does a couple of croissants and a cup of hot chocolate sound?”

The girl shrugged again and looked out the window; Roxy inhaled steadily and walked over to the counter.

“Two large hot chocolates with whipped cream and, oh, let’s make it six croissants please,” she ordered, and handed the woman her card for probably the third time that evening.

The woman behind the register nodded after eyeing her a moment and rung up her order.

“Another long night dear?” the cashier inquired warmly as she handed over Roxy's purchases.

She offered the cashier a terse smile and walked back to the table, to find the girl curiously rooting through her purse.  

The kid stopped when she sat down, and watched her carefully; when she made no move to stop her the girl went back to her search.

She slid the girl her drink, popped open the bag, and dunked a croissant in her cocoa.

“What’cha looking for?” she asked, after swallowing half the pastry.

The girl stopped her search again and looked a bit anxious; Roxy wondered what she had expected to find.

She slid the purse back, and Roxy let it sit on the table between them for a few moments before shoving it over to the window.

“Find anything interesting?”

“You carry a lot of make up with you.”

“I’m a victim of the marketing industry, what can I say,” she replied idly, “A girl’s gotta look fresh, and ya never know when you’re gonna need a touch up.”

The girl set one of her hands on the table and began rolling her tube of emergency black lipstick back and forth.

“Don’t women usually wear red on their lips?”

“They wear all kinds of colors kiddo, red just looks nicest to Hollywood and bad infomercials.”

The girl went silent again, batted the tube back and forth like a cat caught in the middle of half hearted attempt at catching a one legged spider.

Roxy looked her over.

She looked good, as far as Roxy could tell; she seemed more alert than she had in the past two days. She hoped it was a result from getting some sleep and some steady nourishment; she hoped it was because the kid was doing well, and not because she was scared of her.

“Black tends to set people on edge,”she offered quietly, “Comes in handy when half your job consists of dealing with self entitled jerkwads all day. Sometimes I’ll wear pink though.”

The girl flicked the tube over; Roxy caught it before it rolled off the table and nestled it back into her purse.   

“Do you have any kids?”

Roxy’s breath hitched; “Nope.”

“A spouse?”

Roxy wiggled her ringless ringfinger and shook her head.

“Boyfriend?”

“Nu-uh,” Roxy replied, “No girlfriend either.”

The girl toyed with the zipper-pull on her coat for a few minutes.

“You like girls?”

Roxy shrugged a shoulder and smiled warmly; “Women are nice; they’re soft, they smell good, and they usually know their way around another woman way better than any guy I’ve met, in and out of bed. What about you?”

“Never really thought about it.”

Roxy nodded and then squirmed in her seat; there was an odd tickle on her chest and it was starting to irritate her.

“Are you alright?”

Roxy shifted her seat for a few more seconds, and then her face contorted from confused to indignant.  

“Omg, there’s a hair in my shirt, fuckin a;” the woman cursed, and shoved her hand into the garment in find the offending hitchhiker. She did a double take, but managed to retrieve the hair after fishing it out of her bra; she looked it over sighed, “Friggalin cat hair,” she muttered, casting it aside to pull her cocoa in front of her.  

She perked up; “You have cats? What are their names?”

“Vodka Mutini, Wizardy Herbert, O’really Orion, Phat Boi, and Popsicle Pumpkin Party, to name a few.”

“That’s quite an interesting assortment of names.”

“When you have a lot of pets to name, you get really good at naming them on the fly,” Roxy replied, waving her hand; she perked up excitedly  and clapped her hands together, “Would you like to see their pics?”

“I believe I would find that an acceptable way to pass the time.”

Roxy pulled out her phone; she held her tongue between her teeth and her brows furrowed as she navigated through the menus; when she found the one she was looking for she smiled and passed the phone over.

“You’ll have to give it a minute or two to load, there’s a lot of ‘em to go through.”

She took the phone and eyed the progress bar briefly.

“How many cats do you have?”

“Currently?” Roxy asked, “I have about fourteen of them.”

“That’s taking the crazy cat lady schtick a bit too much to the letter, don’t you think?”

“I used to have over a hundred and seventy eight.”

The girl pursed her lips and then scowled.

“And before you ask,” Roxy continued, seeing the girl's unease, “They were already in my house when I moved in. Walked in on the first day not knowing a thing about them, and then that night they starting howling and wallering and it scared the ever living shit out of me; I’ve heard cats before but these, with that many, sounded like something out of a nightmare. I was legit afraid that I had commissioned a haunted house somehow.”

“What did you do?”

“Well that night I just sort of freaked out and hid in my bedroom. The next day I spent hours googling ghosts and demons and shit. I didn’t think I was going to get rid of them that way, but I figured I’d at least know what I was up against.That night I followed the sounds to, of _course_ , the _basement_ ;” Roxy took a sip of her cocoa and shuddered at the memory, “I flashed my light down into the darkness from the top of the stairs and all I could see was just, thousands of eyes glowing in the dark.”

“That actually sounds as if it would be quite unsettling.”

Roxy leaned forward across the table and beckoned her closer; when they were just inches apart, Roxy whispered, “I was so fucking terrified that I nearly pissed myself; I slammed the door and spent the night in my car outside a truckstop down the road.”

“What,” she teased, “You made no daring attempts to threaten them? No wild proclamation that you considered yourself their friend nor made no offer to find out their reason for lingering or promise to help them cross over?”

“Honey, I may be a blonde, but I ain’t a dumb one,” Roxy replied before chuckling.

She leaned back and ran a hand through her hair for minute.

“I went back the next day, figured whatever they were, they wouldn’t be as powerful while the sun was out. Imagine my surprise when instead of coming face to face with countless fathomless wretches from beyond the void, finding countless cats as far as the eye could see.”

“Actually, that would be equally terrifying I would think.”

“More so,” Roxy agreed, “I had no idea how hungry the little furrballs were; I know what happens to old ladies when they’re swarmed by tons of hungry cats.”

“How did they get there in the first place?”

“A queen must have snuck in while they were building and had her litter there. From there of course, it was only a matter of time before a colony established itself.”

“You said you _had_ over a hundred; what did you do with them all?” she asked before sipping her cocoa.

Roxy took a drag of her own shake before replying, “I caught them all of course. Had them spayed. Collared. Named. It took months.”

“Really?”

“Yeah really; I couldn’t use my own basement; the smell was horrible. Some of them were friendly, and some of them started to associate me with food, the kittens were for the most part naturally curious, and those were the ones that were easiest to tame. The others though, especially the older ones? Them not so much. I’d walk down the the stairs and they’d just scatter. Yowl. Hiss. It was like walking into a den of tiny demons every other day. I’d come out scratched to pieces and practically in tears. Every time thought I’d made a dent in their numbers, it seemed like they’d just have more kittens just to spite me. Eventually, it got to the point where in order actually solve the problem, I had to either call animal control or tranquilize them all.”

“What did you do?”

“Sort of both I guess? I gassed ‘em myself,” Roxy replied, “just to knock them out of course. Filled the room with it; I had a slew of vets outside and a few teams of handlers to ferry them from the basement to the trucks, where they got checked out while they were under. There were two shift teams, day and night; and it was one of the longest days of my life. Still, every cat got tagged and snipped. I let them take the ones that had been friendly and the ones that were young enough to be placed easily. The rest I hired handlers for, to get them to an adoptable status, and then I gave those away; I just sort of worked my way down their numbers until I was left with the ones that I didn’t feel comfortable giving up right away.”

“Why? What’s wrong with them?”

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with them, per say, but; I guess their gene pool got fucked up from all the stuff they got into in the basement, cause a lot of them had hella mutations.”

“Mutations?”

“Extra toes, extra eyes, extra tails, a few of them had two heads or two noses or too many legs. Like they’re all terribly sweet, that ones that lived past infancy, but I don’t like the idea of giving someone a pet that might die at any second from health complications or handing them over to some collector who might see them as trophies instead of pets.”

“So you keep them all?”

“Well, I’m still whittling them down, just, slower,” Roxy admitted, “I want to make sure that they get the best homes they can. There are a couple of them I don’t think I’ll ever get rid of though.”

“That sounds quite decent of you.”

Roxy hummed, and then sipped up the last remaining dregs of her cocoa before finishing it while a satisfied sigh.

She took a few minutes to thumb through the pictures that had finally loaded.

True enough, there was documentation of every cat that had passed through her hands and the girl seemed to look them over carefully; a few times the girl smiled, and one particularly humorous photo enticed her to giggle. 

Somewhere, around cat number seventysix, she guessed, the girl grew bored of the cat pictures and held the phone out for her to take back.

“Thank you, that was most interesting,” she offered, “your cats were very cute.”

“Yeah, they were something alright,” Roxy replied wistfully before tilting her head; “You ever had a cat before?”

“I’m afraid not, no,” she replied, her voice laden with honesty, “My… previous residence, had a no pet policy; I do quite like them though. Or the idea of them at least,” she offered.

Roxy gave her a look, she wanted to say something but wasn’t sure if or in what way she should.

“Tell you what kiddo, you ever find yourself in a place where you can have one, you call me up and I’ll let you have your pick of the litter.”

“Oh? Really,” she asked, with a playful quirk of her eyebrow; “What if I picked your favorite?”

“Sweetie, I’d _especially_ let you keep my favorite.”

The girl chewed on her zipper-pull for a few seconds, disregarded it, and pulled a few croissants out of the bag; she picked at one slowly and Roxy bit her lip.

“If you’d like something else I can grab it for you,” she offered.

“This is fine, thank you,” she girl replied mechanically.

Roxy tried to ignore the churning of her gut and nursed her cocoa.

“I like the headband,” she offered.

“I found it,” the girl replied, toying with napkin wrapped around her cup.

“It suits you.”

The girl hunched over, and Roxy swore internally; she should have said she had looked nice instead, she thought.

As she ransacked her brain for a conversation topic that would be pleasant but non-invasive, the girl looked up at her and Roxy’s mouth went dry.

“There’s no car in the parking lot.”

Roxy looked, more out of reflex than disbelief; “That, does happen sometimes. It is pretty late.”

“There being no car implies that you took a taxi, again.”

“I did, yes.”

“But you also said that you’re pretty well off, that would imply that you are probably in possession of your own vehicle.”

“I thought that in the event I could ever convince you to come home with me, that it would be more reassuring if we took a cab rather than if I just drove us, seeing as how I live in the middle of nowhere.”

The girl tilted her head and looked mildly puzzled for a moment.  

“You want to take me home?”

“Well, yes, I suppose I do;” Roxy replied, she straightened her posture and evened her tone, “Yes, I do.”

“I suppose this is the part where I fall into your tender bosom and cry with relief that I’ve been saved? Suddenly become validated as human being and taught the life altering lessons of love and friendship?”

“It’s an offer Honey, one you’re free to accept or refuse; just, think it over, will you?”

The girl shifted in her seat and sipped her cocoa, and Roxy resisted an urge to tuck the girl’s hair behind her ear.

The girl looked back out of the window.

Several hours passed; and when Roxy was in the middle of beating her Tetris score for the fourth time that night, her concentration was broken by a murmur so quiet she almost missed it.

“I’ll think about it.”

Roxy smiled and lazily watched the sunlight slowly illuminate the girl with a warm glow.

   

**Author's Note:**

> you can see the artwork for this here:  
> http://themorbidoptimist.tumblr.com/post/145075405329/finished-version-of-this-something-something


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